Page 131 of Flirty Fall Fling

“I think we need to decide before we’re back in Pine Haven. Figure it out now without an audience.”

“We already denied it.”

“You’re right.” I help her with the other arm. “And no one believed a word of it. So, our other options are to deflect or confirm.”

“I don’t want to confirm anything. In a few weeks, you’ll be gone, and I’ll still be dealing with the consequences of being another fling of Jameson Cross.”

“If it makes you feel any better”—I laugh—“you’ve been the best fling.”

“Oh, sure. I’m sure you tell all your hookups that.” She rolls her eyes.

“Nope,” I say, holding her close to me. “I’ll make sure to tell the paparazzi that when I’m asked.”

She turns around and wraps her arms around me. “Why is this so hard?”

“I have my theories,” I singsong.

“I don’t want to know,” she says, pulling away from me, but I don’t let her get far.

“We say nothing. Not to a camera or a reporter or even a random tourist in your shop who asks you sweetly about your relationship while she’s buying candles for her grandkids. We don’t correct or confirm anything. No one deserves an explanation. As far as I’m concerned, it’s speculation.”

She’s quiet. “I don’t want to pretend like I don’t know you. That’s my boundary.”

“Ah.” I give her a half-grin. “Friends?”

“In public. Fuck buddies behind the scenes. I want to be able to have coffee. Or dinner. Maybe even a drink at High Spirits. Even if there’s a mountain of space between us, we play the friend card. I’ll be your bro.”

I don’t mean to laugh, but having her choose not to hide us completely is a step in the right direction. It’s joy that I feel.

“Fuck, I agree.”

She smiles, and I love to see her happy.

“One more thing.” She somewhat hesitates. “My friends won’t sell me out, even if they’re pissed I didn’t tell them. There will come a point though when you’re back in New York and I’m still here. I’ll ask them to never mention you.”

That’s a dagger in my heart. “Sure.”

“It’s just … I don’t want them to continue to hook us up when this is over. Makes things awkward.” She pulls her hair out from under her collar. “Please don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re disappointed,” she says.

“Know that when I speak to anyone from here, my first question will always be about you,” I say without holding back. “Fling or not, I care. We’re friends.”

She looks away from me; the moment growing too intense. We both turn around and look at the tiny little space. Sheets are cleaned, and the wood is stacked for the next time Blaire visits. The trash is going back with us.

“Ready?” she asks.

“As much as I’ll ever be,” I tell her, leading the way.

Five days ago, we came up to this cabin in the afternoon. She had her window down, and she was catching the wind between her fingers. So much has changed since then.

She locks the door behind her and tries the handle twice. The key goes into her coat pocket instead of her bag, and her other hand reaches for mine. We take our time walking to the car, gravel crunching under our boots. It’s chilly, and our breath comes out in puffs.

“Want to ride with the top down?”

She shivers. “Hell no.”